


Other Side

by Dead_walking



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, I don't know why I keep doing this, M/M, alec centered, this one hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 23:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dead_walking/pseuds/Dead_walking
Summary: The war doesn't stop, but sometimes, it feels like his heart does.





	Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of an extension of [Casualty ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11729391). Looks like I was wrong in predicting that Magnus wouldn't side with the Queen, so it's not to most concrete continuation, but it loosely fits.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://the-roci.tumblr.com/)if you want to say hi or send a prompt request.

He comes to the table a leader, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel himself breaking.

Alec measures the distance between them on instinct, but he passes it off as training. He’s defined himself by yards and angles from the second he first picked up a bow, so it’s easy to convince himself that this is automatic, an ingrained reaction and nothing more. 

Still, he can’t quite keep the inches from feeling like talons, digging in deeper as the numbers grow. _Twelve–forty eight – seventy two – one hundred and twenty._ Every foot is another piece of themselves they were forced to throw away – _I can’t breathe. You’ll blow up the ground you stand on. Okay? I love you_ -and Alec’s almost paralyzed with the fear that there will be nothing left to lose if he keeps on counting. 

But there’s no room to fall apart, not in this space, so he applies his scowl like armor, hardens his eyes, and lets everything smolder. Each breath feeds the flame, roaring in the pit of his stomach until he can craft words like weapons. Alec was groomed for this after all, taught to inspect letters for any sign of weakness, and when he speaks, he makes sure to be sharp, pointed and direct enough to cut through the Queens defenses.

He doesn’t speak to her- he knows a losing battle when he sees one- but through her, cutting open paths towards his real targets. The skeletons of his cabinet, the ones he's wronged, because victory depends on reaching them. 

So it makes it that much harder when he doesn’t.

His words fall to the floor and he falters– _is this true_? They're done fighting for the Shadowhunters, they’re rejecting the Clave, and it sinks like a weight as they refuse to stand beside him, choosing the Queen, and trailing out behind her. 

 

::

 

Alec has always prided himself on being methodical, rational and persuasive and every bit the leader he was raised to be. It shouldn't be so difficult then, to compartmentalize, to seize the chaos that's running rampant inside his mind and hold it steady until it subsides.

He’s certain that all he needs is a moment of silence, a pocket of time where he can re-group and attacking this all from a different angle, but whenever he closes his eyes, his thoughts descend on him like Shax demons desperate to tear him apart.  As soon as he cuts one down, three more emerge from the shadows and it’s only a matter of time until he stumbles, misses his mark and comes crashing to the ground.

And maybe he deserves it. To feel their teeth every time he thinks about failing Max or blindly appointing Sebastian. How could he possibly think he could make the cabinet work after losing two mortal instruments and being invaded from the inside? What protection can he offer the Downworld if he can’t even protect his own Institute? 

 _Between you and me, I'm not sure what I'm doing_. 

And this is where it breathing suddenly becomes harder.  

"Tell me you spent at least part of the night sleeping." Izzy's leaning against the door frame when she pulls him back from the edge, eyes half lidded and dark.

Alec doesn't know what time it is, doesn't know what time he started working, but he feels the hours in the sting behind his eyes. By the time he looks towards Izzy, there's no use in lying, she likely already saw everything he would try to hide written on his face. 

 “I’ll sleep once Valentine's dead,” he says, rubbing the pain from his eyes. “Knowing the location of the Mirror gives us an upper-hand, I'm not going to let us lose it."  

“You won’t,” she says with a smile that almost reassures him. “We won’t. Valentine’s not getting away from us this time.” She’s leaning against the desk when she’s done talking, hand resting on his shoulder. It’s a comfort, even without the rings. 

It’s not until he feels a pressure around his stomach that he realizes he wrapped his arm around himself to ease another type of pressure. A steady ache that he fears he won’t be able to continue on fighting, but he can’t let it get to him now, not when Valentine is so close to accomplishing his genocide.  

Leaning back in his chair, Alec looks at his sister with the weight of everything in his eyes. "Tell me I haven't made all the wrong choices."

“You made the best choices you could,” Izzy says, smile tight.  “We just need to continue making the right ones. It’s going to be alright.”

Alec nods, silently hoping she’s right.

 

::

 

Alec throws himself into planning, prepping the Institute and handing out orders, because what else is there to do?

Sitting idle means thinking and thinking means unraveling and he can’t risk losing himself in the darkness that can sprout in the center of his chest. So he fills the void with conference calls to Idris, talks to Izzy about mission assignments, and meets with Jace and Clary about Clary’s vision about the Mirror. The threat’s still out there but some of pieces are finally falling back into place.  

And if his mind drifts to the pieces that are still out of reach, a voice he can lose himself in, an embrace, at least it finally feels like he may be making his way back towards keeping them safe.

So when Clary rushes into his office about tracing Jonathan, he’s more than ready to pick up the chase.

 

::

 

It's not exactly relief he feels when he finally crumbles onto a stiff mattress, over-worked and exhausted. Yet for the first time since the hospital, Alec is satisfied. No, he may not have done everything right, but he knows how to fight, and with enemies on all fronts, he feels capable of taking them down. If nothing else, it’s a start.

It’s more than a start, especially now that one threat is gone. Jonathan was lost to a river or rapids and blood, leaving only Valentine behind.

Alec can breathe a little easier now, in and out, in and out, a steady rhythm that’s been eluding him since Magnus walked out.  It makes the muscles in his shoulders unfurl and clears his mind until he feels something pressing in on him, something soft and warm, a distant memory that lines his thoughts with gold. And it’s not enough, but he clings to images of Magnus because they’re the only thing that will get him through the night.

He wakes with a start.

And for a brief moment, he's lost in the dark.  He fumbles for something, a hand that’s nowhere to be found, silken sheets that are far too rough under his palm, but it dawns slowly, those things are gone. Just faded memories that are paired with a name still sitting on his lips.

_Magnus._

“Alec.” More desperate this time. “There’s been a demon attack. It’s bad, we need to go. _Now_.”

“Coming,” he hears himself say through the fog that’s clearing from his brain. “I’m coming.”

The war doesn't stop, but sometimes, it feels like his heart does. 

 


End file.
